Crucifixion on centre court
Sport, at times, assumes the form of a cruel destiny. For all the glorious triumphs it bestows, raising one to an aloof pedestal of legendary status, it still denies one final step. That single step that separates a legend from the hallowed altar of satisfying supremacy.
And to rub salt into the wound, it could arrive from the most unexpected quarters. The pawn in your hand a fortnight earlier, could return as the king to dismantle your glow, reversing the tide, inflicting an unimaginable damage.
One gladiator who showed much promise but often faltered in his final performance, scripted history last night, overcoming his finals’ nemesis. And he did it in style on the sport’s greatest circuit, humbling the don in his own back-yard. Besides the encouragement he received from the vociferous home crowd, there’s a greater pulse of sport, overlooked. The intent!
As Murray observed yesterday, Federer the king whose experience included all the myriad scripts of tensioned moments was still in his first Olympic singles finals. Despite lifting a record seven titles on these lawns, the most recent a month ago, the burden of desire to claim the elusive gold amongst his silverware, proved too heavy.
He’d labored his way to the summit, escaping in the semi-finals from being ‘portified’ (as one friend of mine put it). But finally, it was painful to see the colossal albatross that had traversed many miles, paralyzed by the false pains of a mirage created by its own mind.
Like most Federer worshippers, I waited for this day when I’d get to see this legend conquer his final frontier.
But alas, this evening as he strode out to his moment of glory, he chose to walk out as yet another first timer onto the reputed Wimbledon lawns. And with each passing set, it got clear that the elusive dream got heavier in the heart, denying the master his right weapon at the right time. And worse, seeing them arrive from the opposite end.
Even the net in between seemed to side with his confronting warrior.
It seemed so unfair watching the game as a Federer’s fan akin to the crucifixion of the supreme, but as with life, even in sport, nothing can deny the destiny, its attainment.
But veiling my infinite anguish and pain, I admire this champion ‘Andy Murray’ who rose to the occasion. He deserved the gold tonight, for my god apparently for once chose to be human.
You may have lost tonight, my Idol, but there’s nothing that inspires more than a loss. No one knows it better than you. Seems like that there are some unknown lands in any man’s adventure, which I believe are the sole factors responsible for inspiring the journey.
Come the slams again, I wouldn’t be too wrong in expecting the subdued prowess of tonight’s goldie, when this legend shall rise again in his original form.
But for tonight, let’s not take anything away from the patriot, who finally showed what he was capable of.
On a lighter vein, Roger, there is more silver to add to your brimming silverware. Probably Rio deserves you after all!